Tears Asunder
by Firestorm
Summary: When something horrible happens to Harry, the students and teachers of Hogwarts suffer. However one suffers more than anyone else.


Disclaimer: Okay, I've never written a Harry Potter fic before, so please bear with me. I've only read the first three books, and am now on the fourth. I don't own the characters, and am making no money off this. This is only for enjoyment.

**Tears Asunder **

He didn't know how it had happened. Yesterday he had called Potter a contemptuous scar faced loser, and now today, he and the other students at Hogwarts had learned that Harry had been mysteriously injured during a battle with a hot headed young troll. Any other time, he would have laughed at the misfortune of hearing the famous boy being injured. But since Madame Pomfrey had told Dumbledore there was nothing she could do for the poor lad, everyone in the castle had been sullen and rather moody.

He had survived everything else, and she had always been able to help heal him in a jiffy. What was so different about this one time that she could not? It just wasn't right. Classes were hard to keep concentrated on, and the stricter teachers, such as Professor Snape either gave extra homework or detention. And this seemed to appall the students, even the Slytherins who were known to be Snape's favorite pupils.

Harry's friends, Ron Weasely, and Hermione Granger were often seen heading toward the ward Harry was in. As it was, when they entered, they could not bear to look at him without clutching one another in grievances. 

For Harry was literally torn apart. He was wrapped in several bandages from head to toe, that roughly he resembled an ancient mummy from Egypt. Hermione had asked Madame Pomfrey the conditions of his injuries, but the elder witch shook her head at the young girl, and whispered, "You're best not to know, child," and refused to speak anymore on the matter.

So all the could do was just sit by Harry's side, waiting, praying he'd awaken and become better. But as the days went by, Harry's eyes remained closed.

No one however was taking this more harder than Draco Malfoy. As a Slytherin he had always had a strong dislike for Harry… but that didn't mean he hated him. He was simply jealous, and jealousy could make one turn into a stone of ice, causing them to do cruel and hateful things toward another human being. Deep down he knew that it wasn't Harry's fault that he was famous, or that everyone practically liked him, or that Harry was perhaps more powerful at magic than he was. But the rage inside his heart, at Harry being loved by the school's teachers, aside from Snape, caused his heart to burn with longing. He wanted to be appreciated like that. He wanted someone to cheer him on and tell him he was the best. His father and mother, or sure, they loved him.. or at least pretended they did. Often as much whenever he was around them, they would simply ignore him, or tell him of things he did not want to hear.

Now as he had the news that his worst enemy was dying, none of that mattered anymore. He had tried to keep the tears from coming down his cheeks as he rocked back and forth on his four poster in the room he shared with the other Slytherins. So far he was the only one in the whole common room. Even Crabbe and Goyle had been wise enough to leave him alone for a while. He had refused to go to any of his lessons and even refused to eat. And no amount of assurance from any of the teachers could bring him out of the hole he buried himself into. 

"It just isn't fair!" he whispered to no one in particular. "I never wanted that Scar head to actually be on the brink of a death bed.. This school's suppose to have the best witches and wizards. Well, why can't they fix him?!" 

Sadly there was no one to answer him, and Draco felt cold and very alone.

It was Sunday and a rainy day when the news had been told. Harry had passed away after suffering for a week with his wounds. The nurse had tried everything she could to save him, however all healing spells and charms had failed. It had been decided that he would be buried later that day at 3:00 P.M. 

Ron took his best friend's death hard, and not even his brothers Fred and George, or their younger sister Ginny could soothe his aching soul. The tears caused his face to redden even more than it already was, and for his hair to be matted from the wetness. Beside him Hermione had buried her face into Lavender Brown's shoulder as the other girl rubbed her back, tears upon their own eyes. 

Hagrid was sobbing onto the table as Dumbledore patted his back, as he tried to speak. "Twas a good lad, Professor Dumbledore, sir! I knew him since he was jus a baby! He was olways a good lad! Tis shouldn't hav happen!"

The headmaster nodded his agreement to the half giant's words. He was right, this shouldn't have happened. It was clear everyone was very upset by the tragedy. However no one was more upset than Draco. 

For the boy had taken off out of the castle and onto the grounds, running as fast as he could. He didn't care how long he had to run, or about the stitch in his side. He _had _to get away from Hogwarts. 

He finally came to rest beside a boulder and heaved himself upon it. Had he not been so upset he would have realized where he had ran to. The Dark Forest, the one forbidden to all students. But instead, all he could see were the times he and Harry had fought, using words, tricks, and spells, always trying to outdo the other, to show who was better and who was the worst. And now since he was gone, that would no longer happen.

"Why?!" Draco screamed to no one in particular. "Why did it end like this? I didn't want him to die! I really didn't!" 

The wind howled at him, but he ignored it. It was as if nothing could heal his soul. For he seemed destined to remain there, upon that lonely rock of haunting memories of the face he once loathed. 

Back in the Common Room of the Gryffindor Tower, all of the Gryffindors sat together, each of them talking about what happened, being greatly effected by it all. It seemed they had a lost hope in themselves. For most had seen Harry as a beacon of light, particularly Colin and Dennis Creevey. Harry had been somewhat of a hero to them, even if he had tried to ignore him most of his time at Hogwarts. The two brothers sat side by side on a large overstuffed red armchair and spoke no words at all.

Hermione had tried to make some conversation, but every time she went to say something, her eyes filled up with tears and she choked on her sobs. Across from her, Ron was curled up into another chair, his back facing the other students. He had tried to get the memory of Harry erased from his mind, however their friendship, their trials, and their suffering together would not let him do it so easily. And thus he was forced to remember. 

But even though all of the students were distraught and the teachers concerned on what to do, they had all forgotten that Harry was still among them. Confused as to why everyone was crying, and how they practically ignored him, he left the castle, in search of someone he could talk to. His feet glided over the wet grass, pass the Stomping Willow, past the large lake, past Hagrid's house. Wait… Hagrid. Harry quickly turned and headed right for his friend's house. He knocked on the door and waited for an answer. He heard someone moving inside, and then the door flung open. Harry smiled widely. 

"Hagrid!" he said cheerfully. However something wasn't right. Hagrid was looking everywhere else, except down at him like he should have been. "Er, Hagrid? Down here."

But nothing happened. Hagrid took on a miserable and disgusted look and pulled back inside, shutting the door behind him and muttering about hearing things.

Harry stood there frowning. Something was not right. Why was everyone ignoring him? Feeling dejected he turned and walked down the stone steps, making his way into that Dark Forest. As he walked along, his thoughts of the last few days flashed through his forehead. He had been leaving Hagrid's yard after helping to attend to a orphan Hippogriff when a troll came from nowhere and attacked him. He had tried to use a simple spell to knock the troll out, but the beast had been too fast. He was only aware of intense burning agony, particularly in his scar before he welcomed unconsciousness. Now awake and healed, he had never felt so alone. Even his best friends Ron and Hermione had shunned him. 

"Why is everyone ignoring me?" he asked loudly to himself. "I didn't do anything wrong did I? I don't understand." 

"You did nothing wrong, Potter," came a familiar voice. 

Harry's head snapped up, then he leapt back in surprise. For there stood Draco, his greatest enemy. But wait, something was wrong here. Were there actually tear stains on his cheeks?

"Draco.. You've been crying," Harry said softly as he moved toward him.

Draco hastily wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. "It's nothing, Potter.. Shouldn't you be someplace else?" Try as he might, he could not help feeling disgusted at his own words. 

Harry blinked at him and shrugged. "Perhaps so," he said with a derisive shrug. "However, everyone but you is ignoring me. I see no reason to go back to them."

Now it was Draco's turn to stare at him. He was shocked. He knew Harry to be a clever lad who always managed to get himself out of trouble somehow, someway at the last moment, that this was just too unbelievable. 

__

'He doesn't know,' he told himself, with wide eyes. 

Harry was beginning to feel uneasy as he stared back. Finally exasperated, he asked, "What, Draco?"

Draco closed his mouth and whispered. "Harry.. you're dead."

At first Harry thought he was joking, but when Draco reached his hand right through him, that did it for the boy who had once lived. He screamed at the top of his lungs, tears fell from his eyes, he shook and banged himself against trees, rocks, the ground, as if by trying to enact a physical injury, to see if this was all a nightmare he was having.

Draco watched in silence. His heart felt heavy and the jealously he had for him was slowly fading away. Now a new desire to set things straight weighed heavily upon him. There was only one thing to do. 

"Harry!" he called rather loudly, startling the new ghost and causing him to whirl around. Even though he was dead, that bit of charade had just messed up Harry's hair even more. He stood there, floating about five feet off the ground, fixing his wide, scared eyes upon Draco.

"Listen to me," Draco began firmly. "You need to move on. You can't let your death ruin you. Doing so, would cause everyone else to suffer immensely."

"Why do I need to move on, Draco?" Harry asked him, raising one dark eyebrow.

"Don't you get it? You're staying here is causing everyone to have memories of you. They can't take it right now. It's making us all weak in our hearts and minds. You need to go."

Harry was nonplussed and worried as he looked all around him. All he could see was just many dark trees with possible dangerous creatures lurking about, who refused to even come near the two.

"Where would I go?" he murmured softly.

"To your parents."

At this, Harry whirled around, his mouth dropping open in shock. "My parents?! How?"

Draco pulled out his wand and held it in his fist. "When a person is killed and they have moved on, they go to a better place. That place is filled with no harm, no evil, nothing of what you dislike, and is something like a heaven to the Muggles."

"And you believe my parents are there?" Harry asked in disbelief. Draco nodded silently. He could tell he was having a hard time accepting this and after all who could blame him? It wasn't everyday you woke up and had discovered you had died during the night or something. But then finally, after a long moment's wait, Harry nodded. "All right, then help me get to my parents."

At this, Draco raised his wand and chanted the words: "El Cindo arriciao asunder!" A flash of light struck past Harry. He turned around and his eyes widen as his mouth dropped. A golden doorway had suddenly appeared and opened to reveal a beautiful flowering meadow, each flower changing to a different color and species one every five seconds. Harry was speechless. But his amazement at the beauty of the field didn't last long. For he had suddenly heard two familiar voices calling to him. How they were familiar to him he had no idea. But they felt soothing to his ears as if they had been there all along. He looked this way and that, and then he suddenly spotted them. Excited he turned to Draco. 

"Draco, it's my parents!" he said excitedly. 

Draco forced a detached smile to come to his face as he lowered his wand. "Go to them then," he said.

And Harry ran through the door, calling out to the parents he had lost because of Voldemort's deadly curse upon them. As Draco watched, the boy he had always assumed he hated, was suddenly caught up into loving arms. They were reunited, the whole Potter family. As he watched them hugging each other tightly and listened to Harry's excited voice, Draco knew that Harry was truly happy. For a while he watched them walk away, going down over a hill, with Harry walking between his parents and happily chatting with them. 

Draco lifted his wand and with a small wave and a silent whisper of, "Closiu Deseu!" the door closed and vanished altogether. He put his wand away into the pocket of his robe and sighed heavily. Moments ago, he had a strong feeling that he needed to help someone out. And now since he had helped Harry to reunite with his parents, he felt as if a great load had been lifted off his back. Harry was back with his parents, and would be truly happy and at peace, and the students of Hogwarts would be able to heal up and move on with their daily lives. And so, Draco headed back toward the castle.

The End.

A/N: I couldn't help writing this as the idea came to my head and wouldn't leave. It's not very long because I don't know all of the characters and the names of places by heart as of yet. I attempted to get Hagrid's accent as best as I could as well. This fic was centered mainly on Draco for those who hadn't noticed. I wanted to write a fic about how he would really feel if Harry was ever killed. I may or may not write a sequel, depending how many like this one, and depending on the encouragement I get. Please forgive any mistakes such as misspelled words or grammar errors. It's late and I need to get to bed. Good night.

Firestorm 


End file.
